


Behind the Armour

by rinverse



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Final Fantasy XV: Kingsglaive
Genre: Action & Romance, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/F, Friendship/Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-09 19:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11675511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinverse/pseuds/rinverse
Summary: Rumours of a war between the Niflheim Empire and Lucis have lured hunters into becoming mercenaries, loyal only to money. The days of glorious battles, deadly hunts and earning respect amongst others are long since over. When former beast hunter Aranea Highwind becomes a mercenary for the Niflheim Empire, she is only interested in the gil. Will meeting the imprisoned Princess Lunafreya manage to change her mind?





	1. Change of Occupation

With its wings unfurled to their glorious extent, the Bennu descended towards the mercenary. Its speed was beyond that of human perception. And so was its strength when threatened. Nonetheless, the way it glided upon the air was smooth and deadly, both captivating and terrifying. Moonlight reflected like lightning across its outstretched claws. Each talon was longer than the mercenary’s foot and at least twice as wide. The Bennu’s shiny black beak resembled the sharpened point of a spear, ready to be thrust towards the enemy.

Aranea Highwind watched as the enormous bird drew near. Any moment now and its claws would slice through her. Already, the night air was stale with tension.

Her muscles flexed, her hips locked. She tightened the grip on her spear until her knuckles turned white. With unfailing calmness, the mercenary prepared to swing and deal the fatal blow she had come here to deliver.

The sudden thrust of her spear cut the Bennu’s flight short. A series of tremors shook the ground as the beast hit the ground with a sickening  _ thud _ . Like a warrior fallen in battle, the beast lay in wait for the forthcoming end. Its last cry magnified into a continuous shrill which carried across the valley. 

Aranea stared at the giant bird for a long moment before retrieving her spear. The sight reminded her that this wasn’t the job she’d signed up for.

In the beginning, there’d been hunts and powerful beasts with bounties for their death. A few years ago such a thing as a mercenary was scarcely heard throughout the land. Aranea had been a hunter—she’d fought beasts none had killed before and had earned herself great respect amongst other hunters. The payment had been decent but not quite as good as the simple thrill of the hunt. It’d been worth it.

Then, rumours of a new conflict between Lucis and Niflheim began spreading like wildfire. Hunters soon became mercenaries, lured by the promise of gil and hired by the Niflheim Empire.

Nowadays, Aranea Highwind was a mercenary herself. Instead of ancient beasts, she killed ordinary creatures. And instead of respect, she invoked fear, envy amongst the ranks of mercenaries. The thrill of the hunt was long gone. It seemed as though it would never return.

Ironically, this was what it had all come to.

As of late, the thought of quitting her ‘career’ as a mercenary troubled her more often than not. The idea of going back to her old ways as a hunter became more and more appealing by the day. The only problem was that being a mercenary meant staying one. It was the type of work to trap and bind you, to leave you with no choice but to continue playing by its rules.

She followed a path towards the same rocky cliffs from which she’d descended to engage the Bennu in its last battle. As she approached the steep rocks, Aranea saw the dark but unmistakable figure of a man.

“Looks like your troops can stop shaking in their shoes now, Commodore,” Aranea said with a smirk.

The man stepped into the moonlight and the Niflheim badge positioned on his shoulder reflected it. “Careful. I shall not be ridiculed by a filthy mercenary.”

Aranea felt deeply amused by his use of the word ‘careful’. Careful not to anger  _ him _ ? Shouldn’t it have been the other way around? After all, she was the one with the lance and the lack of qualms about killing with it.

“Really? But you have no problem asking this filthy mercenary to do your work for you?” Her mocking smile widened. “Especially since you can’t do it yourself.”

The Niflheim Commodore tossed her a bag with five golden coins nestled inside.

“5,000 gil?” Aranea gave a wry laugh. “Look, I don’t even kill flies for 5,000. Double that and  _ maybe  _ I’ll forget we ever had this conversation.”

The man counted five more coins of 1,000 gil each and smacked them in Aranea’s outstretched palm.

“2,000 more for the attitude,” she said. “Actually, make that 4,000. I need to clean my armour. It’s all covered in dirt now.”

“3,000,” the Commodore snarled.

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

Sure, maybe she hated working under someone and doing his work without any credit but Aranea always had the upper hand. She was the one who killed the deadliest of beasts and held no fear in her heart. It made her employers uneasy around her—which in return made working with them somewhat tolerable.

The problem was that she held no passion for it. Not anymore. Not ever, she had come to realise.

The only thing she enjoyed was the thrill of the fight, the adrenaline pumping through her veins. That odd mixture of fear and excitement when battling a worthy opponent. Too bad a long time had passed since she’d last fought one.

“Anything else?” she asked.

With his back now turned to her, the man muttered, “I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

“Oh, I know you will, honey.” Aranea wondered how on earth that cowardly man could still hold onto his pride as a Commodore. He’d only earned the title because of her ‘help’. “You always do.”

If the whole lot of Niflheim’s army consisted of Commodores like him, then their Empire would surely be doomed. Maybe it already was.

“What’s that?” the Commodore asked.

Aranea looked around in confusion. In that moment, a sudden glint of metal flashed before her eyes. Something darted towards her and then disappeared.

“What’s going on here?” the man turned around, fearful. “Highwind?”

She took a careful step back, her eyes wide open. “Shh.”

Not a single noise alluded to any danger. Only silence and heavy breathing. His. A quickened heartbeat. Hers. And nothing more.

With a graceful motion, Aranea raised her spear and spun it around like a shield. She squinted through the darkness, catching a glimpse of the Commodore cowering near a tree. If they were in a different situation, she would have laughed at the sight. But not now.

The mercenary bent at the knees and hips, preparing for the worst. She willed herself to draw in a slow, even breath. And to wait.

Small rocks rolled off the cliff to her right. Footsteps and twigs snapped to the left. The momentous rush of wind told her something was headed for her, this time from behind and faster than before.

Aranea spun around to catch that same glint of metal dashing towards her. After a series of swings with her spear, she blocked the incoming sword and held out against the force of its momentum. The ear-grating sound of the collision vibrated through her very being.

Now face-to-face with the attacker, Aranea recognised her powerful opponent as the Niflheim Empire’s General. Glauca.

She’d heard too many rumours about his inhuman speed and strength to realise it was him. The full-metal armour, the infamous sword with which he’d sliced apart countless many as though cutting through air. He was a mercenary’s nightmare. Any man’s, really.

And now Aranea seemed to be his enemy.

Both of them were waiting for the other to make the first move.

“I don’t remember doing anything to get on your bad side,” she said whilst shifting her weight against his sword. “Then again, I wouldn’t have remembered either way.”

With that, Aranea took a sudden step backwards. General Glauca used the momentum of her retreat to advance towards her, sword up. But she had expected as much. After all, she’d deliberately lured him into following her.

Aranea thrust her spear into the ground, using it to propel herself and land a heavy kick to his side. The man took the blow full-force but his hand did not falter as he swung his sword once more. With a swoop of the spear, she blocked it. Sparks flew when the two weapons clashed. Steel rang and slid against its own.

“She could be useful,” Glauca said to someone the mercenary hadn’t seen watching their fight.

A man with a wide but unsettling smirk stepped forth from the shadows of the night. The amber in his eyes seemed to be set alight. His locks of unkempt violet hair couldn’t hide the look of amusement spread across his face.

“Oh, I know,” he told the General. “Why would I have come all the way here if I wasn’t sure already?”

Aranea felt the pressure against her lance disappear. When she looked up, she saw Glauca sheathing his sword.

“What in the name of Ifrit’s hell is going on here, Chancellor?!” the Commodore asked, no longer cowering away.

“Ah, a good question indeed, my friend.” The man locked eyes with Aranea and pointed at her. “Miss Highwind, I would very much like to hire you.”

The woman laughed despite her uneasiness. “Yeah, well, sorry to break it to you but I’m a freelancer.”

All of her instincts were screaming at her to dive off the cliff and run. Yet, run she did not. The feeling of shame as she realised the General had held back during their fight had wounded her pride enough.

“My name is Izunia. Ardyn Izunia,” the man introduced himself, all the while ignoring her remark. He bowed theatrically. “Chancellor of Niflheim.”

Great, another name Aranea recognised and knew would get her in trouble.

Ardyn gestured with his hands towards the empty space in front of him. Was he supposed to be pointing at something? “Miss Highwind, a war is about to commence. It’s not unreasonable to say the Empire would use a person of your skills.”

Of course, every mercenary knew a war was coming. A war between Niflheim and Lucis. Some had chosen sides long before the first sign of military mobilisation. The others had chosen to remain neutral; she was one of those. Not because she didn’t need the money a powerful employer would give her, but because she doubted Niflheim’s chances of winning. Maybe there were a few fine warriors like Glauca but the rest were cowards. Even some of the higher-ups.

“And what in the world will I do when I join you? Serve under fools like this one?” Aranea nodded towards the Commodore to prove her point.

She stole a quick peek at the General just in time to see him tighten the grip on his sword’s handle.

“Oh, no, you will be the new Commodore of the Niflheim Empire's 86th Airborne Unit.” Ardyn smiled with an unnerving innocence. “The job position just opened.”

He clapped his hands together and General Glauca slid his sword in the Commodore’s chest. 

“We’re hiring.”

Great. Working for a man who had no qualms about killing his own men just for the sake of shock value? Freaking great…

Both of Niflheim’s Chancellor and its General turned towards her. They paid no mind to the dead body at their feet. All they wanted was to hear her answer. Or wait to see if she’d be the one to draw first blood. 

There seemed to be only two options in front of her. The first one was to accept and the second—to decline and find herself in a hopeless battle against General Glauca.

Aranea had already decided. If she agreed to take this job, she’d have enough money to leave this mindless world. She couldn’t care less whether it was Niflheim going against Lucis or some other kingdom. One way or the other, the only merit she could possibly have was the money. Neither of the empires would accept her as a civilian, nor as a full-fledged soldier. She had no place amongst the world of mercenaries either. Aranea was just a lancer with the mindset and skill of a hunter. But there were no more hunters. After all, empires didn’t win wars with hunters. There were mercenaries for that.

Aranea Highwind was cursed—she lived inside the vicious cycle of doing one job after another in hopes of reaching their end. But there was no end in sight. Not until you escaped and covered your tracks. For that, you needed a decent amount of gil. An amount which Aranea most certainly did not possess.

“How much are you paying?” she asked.

“That’s why I like mercenaries. As long as there’s gil on the table, you should have no problem.” Ardyn smirked. “Lucky for you, no one’s going to pay better than me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear reader! :)
> 
> This new work is going to focus on one of the most badass characters in the entire Final Fantasy universe. Aranea Highwind. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but she really is amazing. In the beginning of this work, Aranea is also very confused—she's deadly in battle but not at all interested in working under someone unworthy of her time or following orders blindly. Maybe she will soon find a path worth pursuing.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this new work and decide to follow it until the end! :)


	2. A Glimpse of Tenebrae's Princess

“Just like in the stories, isn’t it?”

Aranea did her best not to poke him with her lance, even though she found it very tempting indeed. As soon as they’d taken the path towards Tenebrae’s castles, she’d known someone would make a comment. What she wasn’t sure of was whether it would be Biggs or Wedge.

This time it had been Wedge but all he’d done was voice what the three of them had been thinking all along.

From the waterfalls which began somewhere above the clouds and disappeared in mists of smoke to the floating islands, Tenebrae was just as majestic as the stories described it to be. White castles lay perched upon the hovering pieces of landmass. Impressive fortresses and towers covered in climbing flowers. Green as far as the eye could see.

Aranea looked away, taking interest in following the path before them. All that beauty was now being used a site for forces mobilisation. Tenebraen folk weren’t fighters; they hadn’t resisted when Niflheim forces seized control over their land twelve years ago. She wondered why they’d even built their massive forts. So what if Tenebrae was a paradise, taken straight from someone’s wildest imagination? In the end, what difference did it make when armies stomped over its beauty and laced its air with their murderous intent?

Biggs frowned. “Not exactly a fairytale setting with the airships flying around and the magitek soldiers patrolling everywhere.”

“Excluding them, I mean.” Wedge scratched the back of his head. Then, in a new fit of enthusiasm, he drew closer to the edge of the path and pointed. “Do you think we can see our ship from here?”

The woman turned to stare at one of the floating islands which the Niflheim Empire used as a landing area. From where the group was standing, the aircrafts resembled small black specs, flies at best. “Of course not.”

“Hey, Wedge,” Biggs teased with a grin. “You’re still a little off with the landings, aren’t you?”

“Am not!”

Aranea picked up her pace. “Sorry to interrupt your quality time but as far as I can remember, you’re both off with the landings. Did you forget last time?”

“No, Lady A,” muttered Biggs at the same exact moment when Wedge exclaimed, “But we landed, didn’t we?!”

Yes, they had. Crashing right into the Phalaris’ den as a result. Considering the fact that they’d had a thorough plan of stealthily capturing the beast after luring it into a trap, it had been a disaster.

With these two, things were just never boring. Nor quiet. Aranea had parted with the beautiful moments of peaceful silence as soon as she had met them back in her teenage days. Loyal Biggs and awkward Wedge. At the time, she’d been training to become a hunter. The countless bruises and cuts had been impossible to cover; not that she thought much of them unless they were open wounds which needed immediate treatment. Biggs always carried bandages, though, and Wedge always talked nonsense to distract her as his friend bound the gashes. Little had changed since then.

“Checkpoint,” Biggs informed them as the path came to an end and gave way to a guarded passage between islands.

Before them awaited the first of many checkpoints which marked their route inside Tenebrae’s cluster of castles. Armed Niflheim soldiers guarded the passage, their guns looking unnatural in the setting of melodic waterfalls and fairytale castles. 

“I know I made a deal but  _ you _ don’t have to follow through with this,” Aranea spoke in a hushed tone. “It’s not too late to turn back.”

Aranea had no choice but to continue. The need of gil and the thought of General Glauca’s merciless swing of his sword were at the back of her mind at all times. As for her two companions, they weren’t yet officially named Niflheim mercenaries. The deal didn’t demand their assistance, even though Aranea did not mind it. 

Wedge smiled reassuringly. “We really don’t care who we’re working for as long as we’re together, A.”

“We’ll always have your back,” added Biggs.

The woman felt selfish as she nodded. If she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have dragged them in her own mess. Then again, they would have followed. Just like when she’d taken up her very first hunt and the two of them had trodden on her heels. The only reason Aranea had even chosen to acknowledge their presence was because the beast she was in charge of hunting down had attacked  _ them  _ instead of her.

“Names?” the closest of the Niflheim troops asked.

“Aranea Highwind, Commodore of the 86th Airborne Unit.” The woman motioned towards her companions. “These are my men, Biggs Callux and Wedge Kincaid.”

“State your business here.”

Aranea frowned. “We are to report for briefing to High Commander Ravus.”

“Proceed straight to Fenestala Manor,” the soldier standing further back said with a tone of unconcealed boredom.

As they followed the path towards the Manor, passing through one bridge after another, Wedge voiced their thoughts once more. “These guys have the worst job, I swear.”

If the rest of Tenebrae had impressed the group, Fenestala Castle caught them at a loss of words. It was by far the most impressive building they’d come across—white and refined like bone. An architectural masterpiece. Even Aranea had to admit it was quite a pleasant sight to look at.

When they approached their third—and hopefully, final—checkpoint, Aranea stated their names and business without waiting to be prompted.

“Excuse me,  _ Commodore _ ,” one of the guards said with a particular emphasis on the title. He all but spat the word back at her; the despise was more than evident in his voice. “This area is off limits.”

The other guard smirked. “For pesky mercenaries, that is.”

If the two Niflheim troops had expected the group to pick a fight, they couldn’t have been more wrong. The only reaction from Biggs was a dull laugh, while Wedge whistled. No doubt, they had learned their lesson not to get in Aranea’s way when she was being provoked.

The woman chose to put on a smile and walk past the two guards with absolute disregard of their words. An indication that she had heard them at all was the pace of her stride, slow to the point of mockery. Alongside her insulting smile, it served to further rub salt into the wound.

“Stand down, private,” Aranea told the second guard with her most casual tone yet. “Save your strength for guarding these empty towers while we head out for battle.”

Biggs and Wedge passed by the two fuming troops with the most content expressions they could have hoped to ever muster. It didn’t take a genius to point out that they were enjoying the situation. Perhaps more than Aranea wanted them to. She just  _ knew _ Biggs’ pleased grin would remain on his face until the day was over and that Wedge would make some sort of shameless comment—

“That’s a second-degree burn right there,” Wedge said in a blatant manner. As expected of him.

Together, they ascended the stairs towards Fenestala Manor’s open hall. Inside, the room was vast and lit by the bright sun rays streaming from the windows. White stone covered every square of the hall—from the floors to the walls, and even the ceiling. Door and window frames shone with a warm gleam, as they were encrusted with gold.

One servant bowed and three soldiers nodded at the group.

Aranea had heard that Fenestala Manor was where the Fleurets, the Oracle family indeed, resided. Or had, at least. As far as rumours went, High Commander Ravus only ever came to visit his sister, the Princess imprisoned inside this castle. While Aranea didn’t know the details, she thought it wasn’t a bad place to be forced to live in.

“High Commander Ravus is aware of your presence, Commodore,” one of the soldiers told her with a salute. “Your briefing will begin shortly.”

“We’ll wait here, then.” Since the soldier continued saluting her, showing no intention to lower his hand, Aranea wondered what she was supposed to say. No one had actually briefed her on military etiquette.  “At ease, soldier. There’s no point saluting me because of my rank only, is there?”

Judging from the soldier’s shocked expression, this was the first time someone had said something as outrageous. Or as true to his own thoughts. It made him go crimson and left him unable to hold her gaze any longer.

Aranea wasn’t keen on the formal way everyone was supposed to address each other but it was the military, after all. She just hoped she wasn’t going to stay long enough to get used to it.

The group moved away from the soldiers, choosing to head for one of the many balconies and marvel at the view instead. Not that Aranea took pleasure in watching water fall down, clash against the rocks, and disappear. They were served water and an odd-looking Tenebraen beverage which Wedge gulped down almost in an instant.

“Guys,” he said with a look of utter shock. “I think this has alcohol in it.”

“You’re just making excuses so you won’t pilot the ship!” Biggs accused him, whilst gulping down his own glass of unfamiliar beverage. “I don’t taste alcohol at all.”

“Am not! And if you smell it, there’s a whiff of—”

“Shut it, both of you.” Aranea basked in the newborn silence and braced to hear more of the noises coming from the window next to them.

“... _ You would throw your life away for his _ ?” A man’s voice, loud and angry. Jagged at the edges, as though the emotion behind the words was too raw and the wound too deep. 

“ _ My life has no other meaning than to serve the King of Light. _ ” This time, a woman’s.

“ _ You’ve made your choice then _ ?”

Aranea leaned against the balcony’s stone railing and sighed. “Guess there are troubles in paradise after all.”

Despite Tenebrae’s serene beauty, there was something so hauntingly depressing about it that Aranea could not wait to be dispatched elsewhere. The faster she did her job, the faster she’d get paid and leave.

“ _ You know I have _ .”

Aranea didn’t want to hear the rest of the conversation so she was relieved when the sound of approaching footsteps came. The sharp turn of a doorknob followed it. Biggs and Wedge had already rejoined the rest of the soldiers inside the open hall.

When the doors opened, everyone in the room either saluted or bowed in front of the remnants of Tenebrae’s royal family. Aranea only nodded, though with enough courtesy to still appear respectful of the etiquette—or at least as much as a mercenary could be.

Ravus Nox Fleuret strode inside the hall, whatever conversation he’d just had still haunting him. Locks of alabaster hair fell in his eyes, though unable to hide their different colours. One eye was purple and the other—blue, but in both burned an odd flare much alike that of a high fever. He looked more troubled than would suit a man so young. Then again, age meant nothing in the world of death and gore.

“Welcome aboard, Commodore.”

“High Commander Ravus.” Aranea was starting to develop a strong dislike towards the absurd amount of time it took to address someone. “Not sure about the ‘welcome’ part yet but I guess it could be worse.”

The man looked at her with an understanding expression. “I assure you the ‘welcome’ part never goes beyond mere formality, not around here at least.”

“So I’ve heard,” she said, her thoughts travelling back to the night when she’d met General Glauca and Ardyn Izunia. Their ‘welcome’ had been an unspoken threat and a steady hand on an unsheathed sword. What a warm welcome indeed.

A rustle of shimmering silver caught Aranea’s attention and kept it.

Behind the commander stood Princess Lunafreya, both hands on the door in what seemed like a half-hearted attempt to keep it open for just a little longer. The resemblance between the two was striking, unmistakable. From the silvery colour of the hair to the almost natural aura of graceful royalty.

“Princess,” Aranea acknowledged her and received a small smile in return.

Ravus pointed to the far end of the hallway without as much as a backwards glance at his sister. “Through here, Commodore. We’ll use this passage to head straight to the landing area.”

Aranea turned around and allowed herself one last glimpse of the Princess. Her blue eyes and the flicker of well-masked determination in her expression burned through Aranea as the passage separated them. The image had painted a strong impression inside her mind. Recalling it was tempting to the point of being excruciating to resist. Because for an imprisoned Princess, Lady Lunafreya wasn’t a beautiful damsel in distress, despite the fairytale castles.

In her eyes, Aranea had seen the exact opposite of the haunting, almost painful strain in her brother’s. There was determination and—above all—a spirit that had somehow remained unbroken despite her situation. Or maybe in spite of it.

It all made Aranea wonder what would come from the brother’s pain and the sister’s resolve.

“The Chancellor instructed me to brief you on our current situation.” Commander Ravus was looking at her from the corner of his eye. “I needn’t tell you that everything said in the next ten minutes is strictly classified. Same goes for your men.”

“Yes, sir,” Aranea replied with a blank expression. Certainly, a sentence which started with “The Chancellor…” would bring only trouble.

Biggs and Wedge managed an affirmative but slowed down, choosing to keep their distance. The three soldiers which had joined them rushed ahead to provide their superiors’ privacy as well. Close enough to listen but not enough to feel intruding. 

“Right now, the Chancellor is offering terms of peace between Lucis and Niflheim.”

Aranea held back a laugh. “Peace?”

As if that man would ever be satisfied with peace, let alone him being the one to propose it.

Even speaking of peace while they were walking towards the soldiers’ main landing site seemed ridiculous. Tenebraen people built beautiful castles, not gaping passageways which still carried the stench of the explosives used to make them. Had the Empire given them peace? No, because it wasn’t capable of even fathoming the thought of it. Nor was Ardyn Izunia, for that matter.

“The first condition is that Lucis must surrender all territories beyond Insomnia to Niflheim.” Well, so far it seemed like a threat, not a peace offering. “The second, Lucis’ Prince is to marry Lady Lunafreya.”

“Marriage? Isn’t that what the King has wanted all along?” Aranea asked.

“You’re awfully informed for someone who’s just been hired.” Instead of a warning, the words came out sounding more like an amused remark.

“Rumours are the second currency mercenaries trade in.” With gil being the first, of course. Weapons and magic items came in third place. 

Like much of her information, Aranea had just  _ acquired _ it. Some places gil wasn’t worth a thing and some news were worth more than gil altogether. Sometimes, she overheard people talking, hunched over in the shadows of a market, trading information. Even though she didn’t remember the circumstances under which she’d heard the story of Tenebrae’s Lunafreya and Lucis’ Noctis, Aranea now recalled little parts of it.

“A marriage between those two might tempt the King of Lucis into accepting the offer,” she said after giving it some thought. “But I doubt peace is what the Chancellor is after.”

Ravus chose to remain silent. Even so, the woman felt she was on the right track. With the spike of tension in the air, she knew he was waiting for her to continue. Maybe he was even testing her. To see whether Aranea Highwind was just another blank mercenary unable to think further than a bag of gil.

“If it was, he wouldn’t have hired me.” Aranea smiled with confidence as she caught the Commander’s eyes dart towards her. “Instead, he even brought General Glauca to test me in combat. Now, I don’t suppose my job here involves bringing Niflheim’s Emperor a pen to sign the peace treaty with.”

“Certainly not. But there will be a person for that, I assure you.”

Aranea smirked. “So then what  _ does _ my job involve?”

A pause followed. Long enough to make the corner of her mouth falter but not so long as to let it slide back down. Maybe it was on purpose, the Commander’s pause. Or maybe it was just her imagination, half-dreading the answer because she was already expecting it.

“Leading the aerial attack against Lucis while someone brings the Emperor a pen to sign the peace treaty with. In a nutshell.”

And just like that, her smirk faded right away.

“Leading an attack and participating in one are two very different things.” She managed to regain her composure.

The Commander only nodded.

“I’ll be honest with you,” Aranea began. “Most mercenaries don’t stick with one side forever. They switch as soon as someone offers them more money. So it’s kind of an unspoken rule not to lead an attack against a kingdom that may be your employer some day.”

“I’ll be honest with you in return.” Despite the darkness surrounding them, she felt herself being stared down. Ravus’ eyes were boring into her. Deadly purple flames and icy blue waves.

“Sir.”

In the distance, a spec of daylight flickered. Still some few minutes away but finally, the dark passageway was coming to an end. The darkness never bothered Aranea but the feeling of being trapped underground did. Without the sky above her, without the vastness of the air and the freedom of the wind. As they were now, her lance was all but scrapping at the walls of the passage. No way to jump, to run, to defend yourself.

Right at that moment, she found herself wanting to do either of those things. The sudden change of atmosphere, the rush of tension threatened to make the passage collapse in on itself. Or so Aranea thought. But if it did, she’d have nowhere to go, nothing left to do.

“I have no mercy for traitors or deserters. Nobody here does,” he warned, his voice laced with menace. “So choose. Do you want to be an enemy or an ally?”

Aranea had regained enough of her previous confidence to evade the question. “Hardly matters what I want to be.”

The Commander shifted his focus on the light in front of them. With the distorted sun rays now falling to rest on his face, Aranea saw how heavy with burden it seemed to be.

“Damn right, it doesn’t,” Ravus said in a low voice. Rather than to her, he was talking to himself.

In tense silence, the group filled out of the passageway and onto an open meadow. The sight of at least a hundred airships and maybe twice as many soldiers told Aranea they had reached the landing area.

“I hope to have you on our side, Commodore.”

“Sir” was the only reply Aranea could offer in return.

As they parted ways with the High commander and his own squad, Aranea made sure to keep her gaze on the young soldier who’d saluted her. When he finally responded to her look, she winked at him and smirked. 

“You’re shameless, Lady A,” Biggs murmured. Judging from the way he said it, it was difficult to tell whether he was referencing the wink or the conversation with Ravus. Both, she guessed.

Neither of the three comrades had to say much on their way through the landing site. They were either too intent on finding their ship in the hundreds of other or they were far too careless because it took them an hour to do so. As soon as the number ‘86’, spray-painted on the outside, had emerged before them, Wedge had ran inside to take the bag off his shoulders.

At one point, all three of them had gone in front of their ship to just stand and stare at it. It occurred to them that they ought to have seen it—be it for the fact that it was the only red ship amongst a sea of black crafts or due to the central spot it seemed to be positioned at. But no one said anything. They had their own airship and if that wasn’t enough to satisfy them, nothing could.

“Okay, time to get this baby in the air!” Aranea said with a rare display of genuine enthusiasm.

Biggs coughed, his face resembling the colour of beet. “Umm, Lady A...”

“What?”

“The alcohol in that beverage proved to be pretty strong.”

“Yeah,” Wedge confessed, though with much effort. “I’m not feeling very well.”

The woman stared at them for a long, antagonising moment before heading back inside their ship. When she emerged again, she slapped a deck of cards in Biggs’ hand. “Your turn to deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear reader! :) I hope you did enjoy this chapter as it sure took me longer than expected to write it. 
> 
> As to why that was, I believe it had something to do with the next-to-impossible task of trying to capture Biggs and Wedge as accurately as possible. Through the scarce presentation of them in the game, we get a feeling of their personalities but not nearly as enough information as needed. Other than that, establishing Ravus' rather troubled personality has been a challenge. Then again, even the game developers had a hard time with it (Chapter 13 patch, I'm looking at you).
> 
> Anyway, stay tuned for the third chapter if you've enjoyed the story so far! Next time, we will get more than a simple glimpse of Tenebrae's Princess. :)


	3. A Bird's Cage

Something rotten and foul was rooted deep in the Empire’s armies.

As a mercenary, Aranea Highwind had no right to judge; she was hardly the epitome of innocence herself. But the more she listened, the more she heard rumours of projects Niflheim was struggling to keep under wraps. At first, Aranea hadn’t wanted to listen but the words reached her regardless of her wishes, spreading until it poisoned her thoughts and kept her awake at night. Until she had no other choice. No one in service of the Empire did; it had either been taken away by force, or surrendered voluntarily.

Even as word got out that Aranea Highwind was to lead an attack against the Crown City, some whispered and others pretended nothing was happening. Even as the Chancellor’s return brought news of his intention to strike on the day of the Peace Treaty, people acted as if nothing was wrong.

But it was. Deeply, impossibly, wrong. Twisting wills into a contortion of freedom which limited itself to following orders, to a blind resignation.

And the more she looked, the more Aranea saw puppets in place of soldiers. She could see the strings as well—one end wrapped around the neck of each and every trooper like a noose, the other resting in the Empire’s hand. Ready to be pulled, to be played with.

But the more taut a string, the more likely it was to snap.

Aranea had learned that lesson while she’d  _ taught  _ it. After her first string of successful hunts, a league of low-branch hunters had gotten greedy. They’d thought she could be their sword and shield, scoring victories  _ for them _ , pushing through the ranks  _ for them _ . And she had, until the string had snapped, leaving them at the mercy of their biggest mistake—a young girl with the will to conquer the world.

Maybe it was a sort of self-satisfaction which pulled Aranea towards Tenebrae’s Princess now, several years later. A desire to meet someone else with the will to break down her confines. A yearning to see the passion she had once worn like a knife to her belt but had now left to fade on its own. To see who she could have been, if only life hadn’t turned her into a mercenary. If only she had been strong enough to resist it.

The woman moved through the morning shadows unnoticed, leaving nothing but a mere rustle of grass in her wake. Biggs had been too immersed in their airship’s control panel to notice her absence (at least for now) or hear her footsteps through Wedge’s snoring. Both would have told her that what she was about to do was insane but she would have listened to neither of them.

Caught in the lure of her own thoughts, she found herself recalling the brief meeting with Tenebrae’s Princess. It seemed deeply ironic that the person whose string was stretched the tightest had also been the one to have snapped it first. What it had cost her, Aranea did not know. But she  _ wanted  _ to. A part of her burned to find out. What kind of a person was the princess who had more fire in her eyes than a soldier? What kind of an Empire was keeping her prisoner and what more was it hiding?

As she emerged from the shadows, Aranea came to stand in front of the same tunnel she’d crossed days before, the one connecting Fenestala Manor and the landing area. From her side, it looked like a small crevice lined with climbing vines but she knew better. After all, she hadn’t chosen the exact moment when the guard patrolling around had turned his back to her for nothing.

Inside the tunnel, it was dark and thick with the heavy air of moss on rock. Same as before, then.

When Aranea came to a stop inside the Fenestala Manor’s grand hall, she saw a single guard on duty. Not just any guard; it was the same young man who’d blushed furiously under her gaze the last time she’d been here. For once in her life as a mercenary, she seemed to be in luck.

“You’re dismissed,” Aranea said, forcing enough command in her tone to give weight to her words. Still, the lazy smile on her face was what won him over. “High Commander Ravus’ orders.”

The soldier flushed beet red. At least he did not salute her. “Yes, Commod—”

She  _ tsked _ , her smile growing into a confident smirk. “Now, would it take a miracle to have you call me by my name?”

“No, Lady Aranea,” he stammered, flushing even further.

As the soldier moved out of sight with a walk that said he wished nothing more than to melt into the Manor’s walls, Aranea rested a hand on the doorknob. She didn’t know what good talking to the Princess would do. If anything, there was a whole lot of bad it  _ could do _ , but then again, Aranea was not much of a person to go with what most would label ‘right’.

‘Wrong’ had such a better ring to it.

Hunters had first thought it  _ wrong  _ that Aranea was a girl storming through their ranks, putting them to shame. She’d shattered their beliefs with her sheer strength. Mercenaries had first found it  _ wrong  _ that Aranea could chase morals and ideals while still calling herself a hired gun. She’d stepped over their pride like stomping over grass.

Deep down, Aranea wanted Tenebrae’s Princess to be  _ wrong  _ in all the  _ right  _ ways. She imagined not a damsel in distress but a girl, her will strong enough to snap the strings tied around her neck.

When she opened the tall doors, bright rays of sunlight welcomed her in. Aranea found the Princess with a book or a diary in her lap, her gaze drifting past the window. It was a gaze filled with hunger for the outside world, with longing to see, to feel. To simply  _ live _ , not by someone else’s will but by her own.

Aranea took a graceful step inside the girl’s prison. “Now, what does the Princess do caged inside her room all day long? Wait for the Prince to come and rescue her?”

In return, Lady Lunafreya just smiled at her. It was both a tired smile of feigned resignation and a spark of mild interest, a twirl of dancing flames.

“Or maybe she’s plotting how to go and rescue  _ him _ ,” Aranea continued, her words earning her a look of genuine curiosity and a gentle laugh. A beautiful one.

“I did not know they trained soldiers into reading others’ thoughts.”

Aranea crept forward, gliding towards the windows. “They should train them into  _ having  _ thoughts but I guess it’s too much to ask for.”

The Princess shook her head. “Not a very humble request.”

“Well, being ‘humble’ is hardly something I can take pride in.” Both were staring at each other now and Aranea felt as though she was being tested. She smirked. “You don’t survive by being humble.”

Princess Lunafreya turned to stare at the world past the window once more. Whatever Aranea had said, it had hit close to home. After all, caged inside this perfect room, the girl had more than enough to survive. Guards and servants alike tended to her every request. But it were the things she could  _ not  _ request that took away the pieces which gave meaning to life. Slowly, part by part, survival was becoming no more than a hollow word bouncing off prison walls. For the Princess, to survive probably meant to be free, to choose how to lead her life.

For Aranea, to survive meant to keep fighting, to stay true to the world of ideals she had created. If anyone tried to take those away, they’d lose more than their life. Some had, none had succeeded.

The soldier looked at the prisoner, hoping to meet her gaze. “Let’s go outside.”

She’d meant to ask ‘ _ Do you want to go outside?’  _ but her lips had a will of their own. What point was there to asking a question she already knew the answer to, anyway?

When the Princess finally looked back, her gaze left a burning trail wherever it fell on Aranea. There was so much unspoken desire to leave the confines of her chambers. To inhale the fresh air and fill her lungs with the breath of freedom.

Aranea did not wait for a better answer. The look had been enough, the silence had spoken volumes. When she opened the door to the hall and strode forward, she did not turn to see if the Princess was following her. It had been a risk but the thrill of it stomped out any fear of the consequences.

A shiver of warmth ran through her when Lady Lunafreya appeared by her side, prompting a flicker of a smile which Aranea hid behind a mask of seriousness.

“And what may the name of my knight in shining armour be?” the Princess asked.

“Aranea Highwind.” She had begun to bow—even only half mockingly—when the girl stopped her with a look. “At your services.”

As they entered the Manor’s gardens, the soldier relished the look of unguarded happiness spread across Lunafreya’s pale face. Her eyes took in every small detail. With hunger, with an urgency only a man whose life was bound by time could understand.

Aranea felt as though she was seeing the garden through Lady Lunafreya’s eyes. Otherwise, she’d have never seen the rows and rows of flowers which basked in the morning sun, reflecting the rays’ warm glow. The palettes and palettes of colours blooming like flowers themselves, fresh and vibrant, vivid splashes of paint. A single fountain marked the centre of the garden, water trailing down its sides.

“I heard you are to lead the airborne forces in the upcoming war,” the Princess said carefully. “Congratulations, it must be an honour.”

The soldier raised her eyebrows, not bothered with hiding her surprise. Yet, it was not the fact that Lady Lunafreya was aware of classified information which caught her unprepared (By the name of Ifrit’s flames, there was  _ no  _ avoiding the rumours spreading through the ranks.) The shock had come from the icy chill behind Lunafreya’ words of feigned praise. A lack of opposition which could not elude her. Not her, not after the fire she’d seen burning in the girl’s eyes the first time they’d met.

“Where did you hear that?” Aranea asked, even though that was not the question she wanted an answer to.

“The guards stationed in front of my room,” Lunafreya said simply. “They are quite fond of you.”

An image of the blushing trooper emerged in her mind and Aranea fought back a smirk. “Well, maybe they’d be disappointed to hear I’m thinking about declining the offer.”

The Princess gave her a long look. “Do you have a choice?”

_ No _ , Aranea thought. “I’d like to believe I’m determined enough to make one either way.”

That earned her a genuine smile.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were looking for trouble, Lady Aranea.”

“Funny,” the soldier mused, pride tickled by the Princess’ comment. It sounded much more like a praise than her previous words of congratulations had. “Your brother thinks I’m just begging for a death wish.”

Lunafreya slowed down to brush her fingers against a tulip’s petals. She did not look up from the splash of colour as she said, “He told me I could trust you.”

Shiva’s blessings, was the world full of surprises or was Tenebrae’s Princess naturally good with leaving people at a loss for words? As Aranea came to think of it, the High Commander had possessed the same unnerving ability to stop someone in their tracks with a single word. Maybe it did run in their blood; for one, it was royal. And everything—from the way the siblings held themselves to their stride and posture—screamed ‘royal’. Like a label, a stamp. A scar worn with pride and dignity.

It seemed difficult to imagine Ravus would advise his sister on trusting Aranea. Especially when she’d outright told him her place on the Empire’s side hung by a single thread. A promise of gil—a lot of it, but not enough to set their deal in stone.

Then, there was the most important question of them all: trust her with  _ what _ ? Surely, it couldn’t have been the destruction of Lucis’ Crown City he’d meant.

“Did he now?” Aranea asked, unable to hide her smirk this time. Unable to stop her gaze from drifting to the Princess’ face, her eyes, her lips. “Would you follow his advice?”

Lady Lunafreya chose to remain silent but Aranea did not miss the small quirk of the corner of her mouth. The ghost of a smile.

“I’d advise against it, Your Highness,” the soldier said with a drop of truth and an ocean of challenge behind her words. “I’m way more trouble than I’m worth.”

Choosing to feign ignorance of the tension of unspoken words woven through the silence, the two strode across the gardens. Lady Lunafreya picked up pace as they reached the fountain, taking a seat on its edge, the one closest to the gentle stream of water. Aranea, on the other hand, remained standing. She wasn’t the type of person to sit still for any longer than what was absolutely necessary. Even then, she’d start pacing. The other soldier seemed to have made a habit of giving her pointed looks whenever she stood up to stretch during briefings.

“What were you thinking about?” the soldier asked. “When I came in your room this morning.”

“The marvel of Zoldara Henge’s floating gardens,” Lunafreya lied. “The feeling is always the same, regardless of how many times you see them.”

In return, the soldier only smirked. “And here I was, thinking you were marvelling at the hidden paths that lead to Lucis. I must have been mistaken.”

Aranea watched the Princess from the corner of her eye. Even as they began making their way back to Luna’s chambers, she hung a few steps back, still watching. Not the way a soldier would look out for danger. She watched Luna glide forward—like the very embodiment of grace and excellent manner. And she waited for a smile or a look cast her way, even a fleeting glance.

Their conversation drifted far away from dangerous waters, both of them steering it towards safe harbours. Aranea talked about the first time Biggs had operated an aircraft, pleased to hear the Princess’ laugh as she reached the part where they crashed into a frozen lake. She told her of the time when Wedge had posed to take a photo in front of a sleeping Behemoth, thrilled when Lunafreya asked to see the picture. Not that she had it. The Behemoth had stirred and stomped over Wedge’s camera, all the while exhaling fumes of smoke.

By the time they slipped into the Princess’ chambers, they were both smiling. The sun had begun its descent, slipping behind Tenebrae’s thick forests with such loving ease that it made the sky blush in various shades of purple and orange.

“You were not mistaken,” Lunafreya said, her voice now a tone more serious.

“Mmm?” Aranea all but purred.

The Princess sat by the windows. Her gaze guided the soldier until she’d all but pulled Aranea down with her. There was a moment of silence, the weight of it wafting through the air like mist. Something in Lunafreya’s expression faltered, offering a glimpse of her inner turmoil. Her lips parted ever so softly, almost as if she was about to speak, but no sound escaped.

“I am to leave for the Crown City the day before the Peace Treaty,” she admitted at last. “A Lucii soldier is on their way to escort me.”

To be honest, Aranea was not surprised. If anything, she was flattered at the vote of confidence.

The soldier cocked her head. “I’m not sure ‘breaking into a military fortress to help a princess escape’ classifies as a standard ‘escort’.”

“Is there anything normal left in this world?”

A pause. And then a slow nod. “Fair enough.”

Aranea observed the Princess sitting in front of her. She understood the question behind her words, the steady flare in her gaze. It wasn’t a simple confession to be heard and then pointedly ignored. Instead, it was a question— _ ‘Would you help me escape?’ _ —which demanded an answer. A force like gravity, pulling Aranea in.

Her self-preservation instincts were screaming at her to decline. Her knack for finding trouble whispered lovely murmurs which sounded an awful lot like ‘ _ yes _ ’. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The relief was evident, spreading across Luna’s gentle features like water settling back into peace after a disturbance. “Thank you. Truly.”

“Nothing’s set in stone, Your Highness,” Aranea warned. Even so, she dared a smile as Lunafreya shuffled, appearing not quite fond of the way she was being addressed. “There’s only so much a soldier can do.”

It was a lie but Lady Lunafreya did not need to know that yet.

On her way out, Aranea felt the girl’s gaze rest on her back but she did nothing, said nothing. As the doors swung shut behind her, the soldier released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

With disdain, Aranea realised it was too soon for relief.

“Commodore Highwind,” said the High Commander, four guards on trailing behind her. Her favourite guard was not one of them. Which could either be a good or a very,  _ very  _ bad thing.

She saluted him. “Sir.”

Ravus snared his fingers around her arm and pulled her back. It came as a shock to her, as well as the guards. Maybe even to the High Commander himself—he loosened his crushing grip enough to dull the sensation of bones scraping together. The way his brows furrowed showed he hadn’t done it knowingly. Not that it made the situation any more pleasant and Aranea any less furious

She gritted her teeth. “Something the matter,  _ sir _ ?”

The man shot her a look which told her that he knew Aranea had no business in the Princess’ chambers. That he knew what his sister had asked of her, knew the answer Aranea had given her. But instead of ordering the guards to lock her in one of the gnarly prison cells a mere island away, Ravus only nodded. A simple gesture, yet so loud in its defiance that it meant the world.

Because the High Commander looked as though torn between saying ‘ _ Stop her’  _ and ‘ _ Help her’ _ .

That was when Aranea saw it.

At least a dozen different voices rang in her mind. All of them, the whispers of soldiers as they spread rumours of Niflheim’s secret project. The Chancellor’s experiment.

The veins of Ravus’ arm had turned black—each like a long, sharp trail left by spilled ink. Bulging, pulsing. His skin’s colour had always been fair, pale, though as Aranea’s gaze drifted up his arm, she realised it was a light shade of blue. The shade of bruises when they first bloomed onto the skin.

The High Commander pulled his hand away, as if burned. “Dismissed.”

Aranea stood between the murky tunnel and the bright hall, petrified. Thinking about the rumours, she understood. Understood the pain lodged in Ravus’ eyes, the fire set alight in his sister’s. The whispers amongst the troops, those she’d dismissed as products of wild imagination and boredom, were true. The Empire was corrupting its puppets with something unnatural and foul. Ardyn Izunia was transforming soldiers into weapons. Into daemons.

With a certainty like none she’d ever felt, Aranea Highwind knew she had to help Tenebrae’s Princess escape. Before it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear reader! :) Yes, I may have skipped a week, for which I do apologise. It was not due to laziness or lack of inspiration, I do assure you.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Upon writing it, I realised that we've never actually seen Aranea and Luna together in the same room, talk about engaging in an actual conversation. Nevertheless, I had a blast writing the dialogue between these two—from the pieces of silence filled with tension to the cheeky comments, to the little moments of genuine smiles.
> 
> Stay tuned for next chapter! Let's just pray to Shiva things go well for Aranea and Luna because I have a feeling they'll be needing every prayer. :)


End file.
